


i just wanna hold you

by maybemight_love



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Best Friends, Fever, Fluff, Haunted Houses, Hurt/Comfort, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I'm just touch starved okay, Illnesses, Male Friendship, No Angst, Plane Flights, Platonic Cuddling, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Protective Ryan, Ryan Bergara Loves Shane Madej, Shane Madej Loves Ryan Bergara, Shane is a Mess, Sick Character, Sickfic, Tenderness, car seat headrest, writing?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-01 21:46:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,393
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23924080
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/maybemight_love/pseuds/maybemight_love
Summary: He lets out a sneeze, startling even himself, and Ryan snorts.“Don’t suppose you’re allergic to ghosts, huh, Sasquatch?” He grins at the camera.4k words of absolute platonic fluff, Ryan taking care of Shane when he gets sick on location.
Relationships: Ryan Bergara & Shane Madej
Comments: 30
Kudos: 208





	i just wanna hold you

**Author's Note:**

> just to be very clear I do NOT ship real people, and this was written as completely platonic. All respect to Shane, Ryan, Sara and Mari. I just love sickfics and was missing my friends in quarantine so here is this! honestly I love that they are comfortable being soft and caring friends even on camera. first time posting here :) 
> 
> also car seat headrest references because I love them! and so does Shane so I had to.
> 
> rated teen for me making them swear

The shoot goes well. They’re investigating what Shane is sure is just a musty old house, but Ryan is infuriatingly certain that it’s home to a few ghosts, results of a roof supposedly falling in before the room was rebuilt on the site. There is plenty of space for construction jokes, the fact that it was once a brothel even more hilarious. Prime bit material. The only problem is that Shane feels like absolute shit, and there’s no worse time to get sick. 

They walk through yet another dusty hallway, Ryan talking about a sprit called Johnny, and TJ follows with the camera, low light only making for spookier footage. Shane’s sinuses feel like they’re stuffed with cotton wool.  
He lets out a sneeze, startling even himself, and Ryan snorts.  
“Don’t suppose you’re allergic to ghosts, huh, Sasquatch?” He grins at the camera.  
“No. The only thing I’m allergic to here is your bullshit! H-hey ghouls-“ Shane makes a half-hearted attempt at a tease, before sneezing again, zoning out as Ryan cracks up. God, his head doesn’t hurt half bad, a headache threatening to throb at the edge of his temples.  
“You heard it here, folks! The spirit world finally gets its revenge on this lanky idiot.”  
Ryan gives Shane one of those stupid, glorious smiles, eyes crinkling, and if Shane was a real idiot he’d say it lit up the room better than their shitty ghost hunting lamps ever would-  
Focus. Come on, he told himself. You just need to get through the shoot. He sighed. 

Solo investigations go fine as well, with the room being the kitchen where the roof fell in, blessedly low in dust levels compared to the rest of the house. Ryan goes in first and Shane can’t stop smiling as his shorter friend braves the ghoulies he thinks are sitting on the countertop.

Shane bluffs his way through fine, telling the ghost prostitutes that if they want to get some, there’s two men right here who are experts in seducing ghost ladies, and it’s just too easy to redo the bellybutton gag.  
“Jesus Christ, Shane!” Ryan exclaims from behind the door, but he can hear the mirth in his voice.  
“Ch-SHWK-Hjs-SSHCHH-hc-JHSSS-sssHHHH” , goes the spirit box, and it has never been more annoying.  
“Most useless fucking ghost catcher…” Shane whispers under his breath, and the croakiness in his voice catches him off guard. He coughs once, twice, attempting to clear his throat.  
“Trying to cover up the evidence, huh?” Ryan teases, but there’s a hint of concern.  
“Yeah, s-something like that-“ he cuts himself off again, and his time’s up. Thank fuck, and he’s stumbling out of the too-small doorframe feeling out of breath and not the least bit dizzy.

“You okay, dude?” Ryan slips in, side-eyeing him while they unroll their sleeping bags and set up the cameras for the night after the crew has left. “I thought you’d love my dilipidated mansion a bit more.”  
Shane sighs, and he wants to keep up the jokes so badly, that’s the whole point, but Ryan has his serious I-care-about-you face on and he knows there’s no point brushing it off.  
“No- no, it’s not that, your stanky ass mansion is perfect, dude. I’m fine, I just think I’m coming down with something.”  
“Oh, shit.” Ryan replies, frown deepening, and Shane immediately feels bad.  
“Oh, no, nothing bad, just being a baby over a cold probably.”  
“Still.” Ryan shuffles to sit on the camping mats, turning towards Shane, crossing his legs on the sleeping bag.  
Taking Shane by surprise, Ryan leans forward, and places a few fingers on Shane’s forehead.  
It’s nice.  
“Don’t know about the medical accuracy of that one, Ry.”  
“Yeah, but you’re not one to… you literally never complain. Plus, you’re kind of warm.”  
“You know it, baby!” Shane says, but quietly, with a weak smirk that still makes the edges of Ryan’s mouth upturn.  
“Shut up. You want some Tylenol?”, Ryan says, turning over his shoulder to rummage through his bag.  
“Mmhh”. Shane wriggles his feet into the end of the sleeping bag. It’s small, and his toes push up against the end, but he’s cold and tired and can’t really be bothered to care.  
Ryan looks back to hand Shane the painkillers and a water bottle, and at Shane’s protest at sharing a bottle, he shushes him in the way Shane gets annoyed at most.  
“Your-“ Ryan breaks off to laugh. “Your long fucking legs don’t even fit in that bag, dude!”  
Shane wiggles his eyebrows at him, overdone and theatrical, as he downs the Tylenol with a sip of water.  
“Thanks.”, he says, genuine and grateful.  
“No problem. Love you, yeah?”  
“Love you too. Not to sound hurt your ghosty feelings but I might try and-“ He stops, blushing. “Bit boring for camera, but ugh. I feel like I’ve had a roof fall on me.”  
Ryan looks at him, and something deep in Ryan’s gut twinges in sympathy as he stops and really looks at Shane, away from TJ’s camera and the lights of the shoot. Come to think of it, he looks exhausted, and he almost kicks himself for not seeing it sooner.  
“Get some sleep. I’ll try not to wake you up when my feet are getting eaten by Johnny.”  
“Fu-“ Shane coughs into his elbow. “Fuck you and your demon pals. I’m getting my beauty sleep tonight. Hear that, ghosties?”  
They don’t bicker for long. Ryan flicks the torch off, and pulls the golden ticket item out of his bag.  
“You remember how I said I had a surprise for you, before?”  
“Nnghhh.” Shane makes a noncommittal noise in the dark.  
“I brought a blanket. These houses are always cold as hell. We’re deluxe ghoulfriends now!”  
Ryan blushes, not that anyone can see. Why does he always have to say that stuff on camera? But Shane relaxes beside him as Ryan throws out the blanket over them both.  
“You’re a fucking genius, Bergara. Ghosts… mmh. They’re never gonna get you. You’re far too smart for that.”  
A little bit warmer, side by side on the floor, they go to sleep.

Ryan wakes up in the dark. It’s obviously not sunrise yet. At first he just listens in the dark, tense in an old haunted house, but then he realises the reason why he really woke up.  
Shane is shivering.  
Is he even awake? He doesn’t look it. Ryan peers into the face next to him, not feeling creepy because, well, this might look weird on camera but it’s not like they didn’t sleep centimetres away from each other on a regular basis. His forehead is creased slightly, and his eyelids move like he’s dreaming.  
It’s not even cold. Yes, it’s an old house, but their identical sleeping bags always do the job. He definitely wasn’t exaggerating before, then.  
Ryan makes an executive decision because he can’t stand to see his best friend just… shivering on the floor of a haunted house. He scoots closer, eliminating the few inches between them. Shane murmurs, but it’s contentedly, and actually fucking leans backwards into Ryan’s chest, his back pressed to Ryan’s front. It might be weird if it was someone else, but it was Shane. So Ryan drapes his arm over Shane’s waist, and he realises that he’s basically spooning him, but fuck it. The big guy’s abnormally warm. It’s comfortable, and Ryan doesn’t know if he’s ever felt more protective of Shane than right now. In a demonic house. He drifts off again, not wanting to wake him. 

Shane wakes to see… Fuck. Fuck. His muscles ache so badly.  
It takes him a second to remember he’s on the floor of the location, and not at home.  
Other than how terrible he feels, he can only take in the floor beneath him and the missing warmth where Ryan was pressed into his back. That was nice, he thinks half coherently, as he blinks his eyes open to see Ryan kneeling on the mat, stuffing his own bag into it’s string-tie.  
He thought that a night’s sleep might do him good but Jesus Christ. He feels as dead as whoever used to live in this house. 

Ryan looks over from rolling up his sleeping bag to see Shane blinking up at him, and he does looks rough. He’d been trying to let him sleep in while he packs up the equipment, allow him to sneak in a few more minutes of rest.  
“Mmnnh…Ry? Wh’time s’it? ”  
“It’s 8.40, big guy. Was trying not to wake you. How d’you feel?”  
Ryan swears that his heart physically hurts for a second when Shane only replies with a murmured whine, actually a whine, just a croaky sound of discomfort. Ryan’s overwhelmed with the urge to take care of him.  
“Okay well. I know you feel like utter shit but I think that the quicker I can get you back in L.A. and in a proper bed, the better off you’ll be. Don’t even think about packing up, you idiot,” Ryan pauses as Shane nearly makes a move to help with a camera. “C’mon. Just… put a jumper on or something and I’ll sort out the rest, yeah?”  
Shane is grateful for Ryan’s relentless pragmatism, and feels bad for leaving him to the equipment but he’s too wrecked to argue. He supposes once he gets going it won’t be as bad. Hopefully.  
“T’hnks Ry.” They might joke around but offscreen it’s not as if they can’t have a serious conversation. Usually. Anyway, Shane isn’t in the mood for trying to do any bits now and Ryan knows it. He’ll just voiceover this part with evidence or something. Currently, it’s the last thing on his mind.  
Shane throws on a hoodie. It’s his, not that Ryan’s clothes would ever fit him, but Ryan had packed it. It swamps Ryan, but Shane pulls it on and it fits.  
Also, it smells like his friend. Like a big Ryan-hug. He could use that right now.  
Fuck, is he delirious?

They pack up and get going and Shane feels- not better, but not like he’s about to throw up. Don’t think about that, he reminds himself, and instead focuses on Ryan as they sit in the backseat of the hire van, returning to the airport. They’d stopped for coffee. He has a packet of Tylenol in his pocket, along with a pack of tissues. How could he have been so stupid to not bring tissues to a dusty house?  
“We’re nearly there,” says TJ, “You guys wanna get the handhelds rolling?”  
“Shane’s not feeling too flash,” Ryan supplies, and Shane cringes a bit but, really? Right now, filming was probably not going to get much good content out of him. “Let’s leave it for now, maybe. We can always get footage in L.A.”  
Shane sneezes. Terrible timing. Once, twice. Devon turns to face him from the passenger seat.  
“I thought it was just how you guys don’t sleep well in old houses, but you don’t look good. Sure you’re alright?” It was her job, yes, but she cared. The attention was a bit much right now. Ryan alone was enough.  
“Yeah, I’m fine. Well, alright, but I’ll be fine. Just a lil ghost-itis, I’m sure.”  
“Okay, well, if you’re sure. But until we get off in L.A., I don’t want you keeling over. Actually even in L.A. But you’d hate the paperwork.”  
“Sir yes sir”, says Ryan, grinning. “I’ll make sure Sasquatch here stays upright.”  
They pull into the hire car centre at the airport and Ryan can’t stop sneaking concerned side-eye looks at his friend. He squeezes his arm, quirking his eyebrows at Shane to ask in their unspoken language, you okay?  
Shane gives a small, almost imperceivable nod.

He’s made it. Ryan has somehow, through sheer force of will, got a suddenly very ill Shane Madej through all the bag checks and ticket queues in this fucking airport. He thanks… something, not for the first time, that it’s a domestic flight.  
Walking through the aisle, Ryan manoeuvres a Shane who is well and truly a bit out of it into their seats. The taller man muffles a fit of sneezing into his elbow.  
For some reason, there’s only the two of them in the three seats on the left. Ryan takes the window seat, because that’s his spot, and he probably thinks that Shane should have easier access to the bathroom anyway.  
He is extremely tall, it never fails to surprise Ryan, and Shane folds his overly long legs into the plane seat and half-heartedly drops his daypack at his feet.  
Then Shane just… sighs. Fuck. It’s hard taking the long trip home without his quick wit and one-liners, but Ryan knows he’s really not doing great. Shane gives him a weak smile though, when Ryan gives him a light squeeze on his left arm. There’s some warmth in it, though. Trust, Ryan realises with a jolt of affection. 

Ryan looks at him, and it’s a bit too much, honestly, for how crappy he feels right now.  
Will Toledo is playing faintly through his earbuds, and he knows exactly what Ry is going to ask next. He could talk about music for days, and he knows it.  
“Whatcha listening to there?” Ryan asks with a soft smile in his voice.  
“Car Seat Headrest,” Shane replies, whispering because of the pain in his throat that he’d started to notice in the airport. Bodys didn’t sound sad to him right now, he realised. It sounded tender.  
“ Sorry’m so gross. Ugh.” Shane sniffled, nose running as he rummages in his pockets for a tissue. To his delight, Ryan brings an arm around his shoulders and pulls him in gently.  
“Don’t be sorry, you idiot. It’s not your fault, and you know I don’t mind.

Shane lets his head fall to rest on Ryan’s shoulder, and the combination of the rare slice of public vulnerability, the hoodie Ryan wore yesterday and the mop of unbrushed hair make Ryan smile all the way through the terrible movie he’s watching. 

Midway through the flight he wakes up, if only for a few minutes. Shane’s cheeks are flushed, and he looks like he’s wincing immediately. One headphone dangles from his ear.  
“We’ve just passed halfway. Need some water?” Ryan asks gently.  
Shane shakes his head. He looks… lost? Confused, even, realises Ryan.  
Then as another wave of fondness hits him like a sack of potatoes, Shane looks so young.  
With that bleary-eyed look and hair unkempt and parted lips from breathing through his mouth. He sneezes.  
“Dizzy. Wish.. could lie down.” God, he’s weak. Ryan pauses. It’s only right, surely? Fuck it.  
“C’mon then,” He shifts his lap, pushing the armrests back until there’s room for Shane to lay semi-horizontally, knees dropping off the end of the third unoccupied aisle seat. Torso and hips shuffle sideways in his own. And Ryan has a hand just behind as Shane’s head sinks into Ryan’s lap. 

Ryan’s fingers involuntarily start carding through Shane’s hairline and Shane hums in a way that makes Ryan feel like maybe he isn’t so bad at taking care of him.  
“Mmmh. Feels nice.”  
He laughs at that, relieved that his friend’s still aware of what’s happening.  
Shane presses closer into the warmth of Ryan’s body heat as the airline blanket is draped over his legs. He’s definitely running at least a low-grade fever, Ryan surmises with his hand in Shane’s hair. He allows his eyes to drift back to the screen as he feels Shane’s breathing even out.

Shane feels held. He feels… hm. He just likes Ryan’s fingers making a soothing rhythm in his hair, and the familiar weight of his arm, and the soft warmth of him.  
Shane drifts into a fevered sleep, filled with fragmented thoughts of Ryan and safety.

Ryan is surprised at the lack of complaining. Whenever he’s sick, which he hates, he is incredibly annoying to be around, much more so if it was while filming on location.  
But Shane just… takes it. He’s almost impressed, but it’s the apathy that gets to him the most. Shane always cares, that’s the thing. Even on the rare occasion he’s upset, he cares. And now the big guy is just asleep, head in Ryan’s lap, completely vulnerable and dead to the world.  
As the captain announces their descent, Ryan makes a silent promise to himself and Shane: he’s going to look after his friend even after he gets him back to his apartment. 

Shane wakes up and his first thought is not of Ryan’s concerned face above him, but simply fuck. Ryan is shaking his arm gently, and he realises the background noise is that of the other passengers getting out of their seats.  
“We’ve landed, yeah? You good to get up?” Ryan asks softly.  
He winces. His nose is clogged up and he feels positively disgusting, head pounding, and even the quiet conversation hurts. He gives a slight nod after a second’s hesitation, and begins the overly taxing task of getting out of… Ryan’s lap.  
His cheeks flush with a bit more than just fever. Ryan’s lap. Shit. That’s a bit embarrassing in public, maybe. But it’s so nice to let the feeling of his friend’s legs beneath his aching head just sink in, and he feels so warm with the confirmation that Ryan cares about him like this. 

He groans as his sense of balance rights itself and he sits up again, leaning forward and slinging his backpack on. Sleeping was meant to make you feel better, right? Not that he had the energy to do much else. But it seemed like each time he woke up he just felt worse.  
Ryan seems to pick up on it.  
“We just need to get back home, yeah? We were going to edit the footage from home anyway. It’ll be fine, the rest of us will grab the bags and I’ll drive you to your place.”

“But-“ He begins a hoarse protest as they both stand up to exit their seats and stumbles, clutching on to the back of his seat as he moves into the aisle. He coughs lowly again, into the crook of his elbow, and it sounds painful.  
“Ugh. I- god.” Ryan keeps an eye on him, but they move through the crowds of tired passengers and make their way through the terminal.

The baggage claim is killing him. Ryan can see it, so can TJ, but Shane doesn’t seem to notice. It all goes by in a haze, and he feels cold, and there’s so many people speaking all around him, languages blurring into a white noise that overwhelms his fogged-up brain.  
Ryan snaps him back into reality as Devon pulls the last bag off the conveyor belt.  
“Holding up alright?” he checks, and Shane bobs his head in agreement.  
The four walk away from the crowds swarming Belt Six and move towards the exit. 

There’s a moment where Devon realises that they still need to pick up the oversized camera. She’s coming back from the service desk, and it looks like there might be a wait. They’re stood just outside the terminal. Shane looks ready to fall asleep on his feet, even though Ryan has to look towards the sky to check on him. Ryan would be lying at this point if he said he wasn’t seriously worried. Right now he thinks that he could face a hundred cold ghost rooms if it only meant getting his best friend home as soon as physically possible.  
That’s when Shane’s ridiculously long legs fail him for a second, and he’s taken aback by it, hands clumsily gripping onto the ATM rail that’s next to them. 

“Ghh- fuu-“  
“Woah there, big guy…” Ryan moves to his side as Shane feels the world tilt dangerously. “Can’t have me breaking my promise.” Shane feels Ryan’s arm, so far beneath his own, snake around his back.  
“Y’re so small, Ry…”, He teases, and he feels Ryan chuckle as he lets his arm be slung over the shorter man’s shoulders. Fuck.  
TJ asks Ryan a hushed question. Ryan seems to only pause for an infinitesimal second before slinging their bags onto his other elbow, the one that isn’t holding Shane up.  
What the fuck, Shane thinks dimly. No need to show off.  
“ I’m driving you home, c’mon,” Ryan tugs Shane towards the carpark despite the awkwardness of trying to manoeuvre his tall friend.  
“M’sorry legs are so fuck’ng useless,” he mumbles, but Ryan doesn’t reply, he just gives him a sympathetic smile mixed with a concerned furrowed brow. He manages to unlock the car, dumping the bags on the tarmac for a moment as Shane slumps into the passenger seat. The bags are thrown into the boot, and Ryan gets behind the wheel as the afternoon sun glints through the window. Shane rests his head on it and stares vacantly at the L.A. traffic as his friend swings the car onto the road and all he can think of is warm, familiar, Ryan. 

He doesn’t try to get Shane to reply as he talks. Just quietly tells him about, of all things, the movie that he watched while he was asleep. Knees folded up in Ryan’s passenger seat. Finally they get to Shane’s apartment, and after he throws the bags in the kitchen Ryan comes back to Shane to get him inside. He opens the passenger door and Shane gets out.

They make their way up to the apartment door, Shane on shaky legs, arm around Ryan.  
When they miraculously reach the door, Ryan opens it with his key. and Shane, the idiot, thinks Ryan, attempts to walk to the couch by himself.

Shane is exhausted beyond words. And the relief of being home is like a weight lifted.  
He just needs to sit down. He needs to – the world tilts on its axis and a wave of disoriented nausea hits him in the middle of his own damn apartment. Fuck. Shane really does not…Oh god, he thinks. The movement of standing up is far too intense, too quick, and he feels bad for the state he’s in when Ryan’s doing his best.  
It’s all too much, he’s lightheaded, and with a shiver he realises what’s about to happen.  
“Ry? Ry- M’gonna-“

Ryan doesn’t know what he expects, honestly, but he recognises Shane is six foot fucking four and he’s swaying like he’s drunk, and he drops the keys on the floor to move towards his friend when he hears him ask.  
“Woah, okay- let’s just-“ Ryan tries to... help, somehow, but Shane blacks out, and it’s the best he can do to get hold of him before he hits the floor, catching him unceremoniously, and manage to stumble through a doorway and get him on the bed.  
Ryan sighs. Takes in the sight of his friend coming back to consciousness as he takes both their shoes off.  
Shane’s fine. Well, not fine, but he blinks his eyes open after a few seconds and seems extremely lost before realising he’s in his own room.  
He looks like he wants to speak, but Ryan just informs him, “You passed out there for a minute. Don’t even think about getting up, um- just stay there.” He goes to grab a thermometer and by the time he gets back Shane is sitting up, looking like an absolute mess. He takes it from Ryan (he doesn’t want to feel completely useless), and once it beeps he realises that oh, that’s probably why I felt like my brain was melting.

Ryan actually laughs.  
So does Shane, actually, but more at his reaction than his fever.  
“What the fuck? You’re burning! Why- how were you even walking? You better be going to sleep.”  
“Probably. S’warm here though. Don’t wanna move.”  
“He speaks! But you don’t have to, really? Unless you wanna get changed.”  
Ryan has the absolutely genius idea of ordering pizza. Also of handing Shane his bag so he doesn’t have to move and can find a clean t-shirt and a pair of sweats. Shane thinks Ryan changes too, but he isn’t coherent enough to notice, until he realises Ryan is in the soft, oversized tee he sometimes wears to sleep. He looks up from the bed.  
“Oh- sorry, I-“ Shane realises he hasn’t even asked him what his plans for the night are.  
“I-I thought you might want to see another dumb movie,” Ryan offers, “um, unless me staying over would just be annoying. Which I get.”  
“N-no, I want you to stay. If you want to, I mean.”  
Ryan smiles and shuffles onto the bed next to him, and pretty soon it feels like a damn good movie night. Even if Shane feels as dead one of the spirit box ghosties right now.  
They talk hushed, and quietly, and Ryan turns down the volume on his laptop when he realises Shane’s eyelids are falling shut. Shane barely notices anything but the familiar, comforting weight of his friend next to him. He’s relived Ryan is staying – he just feels better that way. Safer. Warmer.  
“Thanks f’looking after me”, he murmurs, and Ryan hums next to him, not hesitating at all.  
“Any time, babey. I took an oath, remember?” He squeezes Shane’s arm gently. It’s enough.

Shane doesn’t even make it through ten minutes before he’s close to asleep, slumped against Ryan and leaning into his body heat, head sliding to lay on Ryan’s chest, hair with Ryan’s fingers running through it. It’s nice. Ryan doesn’t seem to mind that he’s too tired to talk, he just puts his arm around Shane’s shoulders, and Shane falls asleep under the covers.

Ryan realises that neither of them are moving for the night. Finally, he’s got him with some medicine in him and some clean clothes and in a bed. He was worried enough for the two of them when Shane couldn’t force his limbs to keep him upright. Ryan is more than glad that he’s safe, and comfortable. He’s also oddly happy that his friend trusts Ryan to get him like that single-handed. For now, Shane is right here. They’re both warm and tired. And he just wants to hold him.

So they sleep next to each other; and he does.

**Author's Note:**

> thank you if you got this far sjkhfjhlkshdlahgdfja please leave a comment? I don't know if this was any good but I'm glad to be here! love to you all


End file.
